


Sometimes Life Happens

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [54]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accents are Sexy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awesome Pepper Potts, Bucky Is an Adorable Criminal, Flirting, Hostage Situations, Humor, M/M, Russian Bucky Barnes, Russian Mafia, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: Imagine Tony and Bucky where Bucky works for the Russian mob and he hijacks Tony's car with Tony still in it to run from the cops. Tony wants to be mad, but really, he was sort of bored anyways and hang on, this guy's deadly, hot, and he has an awesome f*cking arm. Maybe this hostage thing isn't so bad after all.</span>
</p><p>Tony hadn’t necessarily been looking for further proof of his maladjusted—one might even argue self-destructive—approach to problems, but sometimes life happened, and you didn’t have any choice <em>but</em> to take a long, hard look at yourself. Sometimes, you’re sitting in your car, staring into your recently emptied coffee cup, contemplating whether or not you really want to do this whole “leading a responsible life” thing anymore, and a guy with a gun slides into your passenger seat. Sometimes, that’s just the way your Monday goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Life Happens

Tony hadn’t necessarily been looking for further proof of his maladjusted—one might even argue self-destructive—approach to problems, but sometimes life happened, and you didn’t have any choice  _but_  to take a long, hard look at yourself. Sometimes, you’re sitting in your car, staring into your recently emptied coffee cup, contemplating whether or not you really want to do this whole “leading a responsible life” thing anymore, and a guy with a gun slides into your passenger seat. Sometimes, that’s just the way your Monday goes.

So, as if to prove the whole maladjusted thing to himself and the world once and for all, he reacts in a way that would cause Pepper to shriek, and throw a shoe at him.

He’s seen carjackings in movies and on TV, and he doesn’t recall any of the characters replying to their carjacker’s lightly accented and viciously polite request at gunpoint of, “Give me your keys, get out of the car, and you won’t be harmed,” with, “Big mistake, pal, never pass on a hostage. Especially not if the hostage is  _me_.”

There is a moment—it’s beautiful, and genuine—that allows Tony to understand the sort of guy he’s dealing with. A sigh, a very weary sigh, with a tiny bit of eyeroll, some soft cursing in what sounds like Russian, and then the guy stares him down, sizing him up. His pretty eyes narrow ever so slightly, lips  _just_  curling up at the corners, and he does a little circle motion with the gun.

“By all means then, be my hostage,” he said.

Tony starts the car, grinning like a madman, because suddenly Monday is looking up in a big way.

This guy, this carjacking guy, could have shot him. Could have pistol whipped him at the very least, or shouted, punched him in the mouth, tried to threaten him, but he hadn’t done any of that. He’d sighed, he’d checked Tony out, and then he’d smiled. Tony’s classifying the sexy slight lip curl as a smile anyway, because it is the only appropriate response for the guy to have after checking him out.

“Right, who or what are we running from?” he asked, pulling out of his parking spot.

“Police. Best to drive carefully. Draws less suspicion.”

“Hm, I can drive carefully,” Tony answered, leaning over to fiddle with the dash, “at least, theoretically.”

He sees a handful of cops burst out of an alleyway about a block or so away, and grins. There is a slight burst of static, and then the (totally killer) sound system is pumping out the police dispatch, just in time to hear an A.P.B. put out for his new friend. In fact, new friend has stopped checking the mirrors for a moment, and is now staring at him with great suspicion.

“Sorry, just,” Tony turned the volume down a bit, “I’m a nerd, and, uh, I also normally drive like a crazy person, and like to avoid getting arrested for that, and so. You know. It comes in handy, don’t judge.”

The guy rolls off a bunch of Russian that Tony has no hope of understanding, yet finds incredibly, inappropriately attractive. It’s something about the way his lips and tongue and teeth move as he forms the words, something that changes in his voice, maybe even the cold assessing look in his eyes as he speaks.

Okay, if he’s being honest, everything about this guy is inappropriately attractive. His mouth, for a start, is just.  _Hnng_. And he has the perfect amount of stubble, just enough to scratch and tickle if you were, say, making out with him in your car. And his eyes! They’re this gorgeous blue that is also kind of gray, that just  _really_ works with the long, tousled brown hair. Leather jacket, jeans, and…

“Best to look at the road, friend,” he suggested, the smile making a comeback. Sure, he’d pointed to the road using his gun, but still.

“Tony,” Tony says, because how can he not? “Nice to meet you.”

He’s getting the look again, the, “I hijacked a crazy person,” look, so he’s surprised when the guy answers with, “Bucky.”

“Bucky.  _Bucky_? Did you just make that up? Or, oh, the Italian mobsters always had nicknames for people, like, ‘Yo, I’m Vinny Carwash.’ Is this a Russian mafia nickname thing? Are you really Bucky the Blade, or something?”

Hot guy shifted in his seat, holding the gun with a bit more purpose. Tony wondered how pissed off Pepper would be if he got himself killed for insulting a mobster after insisting he be taken hostage. Probably pretty upset. She was sensitive about things like him dying.

“Mafia? What makes you say mafia?”

Ah, well, sure. No wonder he was suspicious. Tony wasn’t exactly behaving the way a normal person would. The guy probably thought he was a cop, or maybe a rival gang member or something.

“The police just said ‘suspect has known ties to Russian organized crime,’ and since you’re speaking Russian in my car and running from the cops, I’m guessing they’re still talking about you.”

A bit of the tension eased out of hot guy’s body, which was nice. “Turn left up here,” he instructed, looking out the window, then the rearview mirror. “Childhood nickname. Friends call me Bucky. Don’t you wish to be my friend, Tony?”

Tony’s stomach did a happy little nervous flipflop. Maybe Pepper was right about him taking a long, hard look at his relationship track record. Dangerous men and women should not be such a turn on.

“Absolutely, Bucky,” Tony answered, dropping his voice a bit as he said the name, and smiling suggestively at his passenger. “So, where can I take you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony spotted Bucky biting down on his lower lip to hide his smile, which was just gorgeous. Oh, he was  _so_  in.

“Washington, D.C.,” Bucky answered, lowering the gun and resting it against his knee. He fished out his phone.

“You should ditch that ASAP,” Tony suggested, holding his hand out. “Here, I’ll grab the SIM, then we can chuck it out the window, keep them off our trail.” Bucky’s hand tightened around the device. “Look, I get that I’m probably behaving in the most suspicious way possible, but trust me. If there’s one thing I know it’s tech, and that thing might as well be a homing beacon.”

To his surprise, Bucky actually handed over the phone. Tony began to use his elbows to steer, accidentally honking the horn while prying out the SIM card. Bucky leaned over, grabbed the wheel for him, eyes once again narrowed.

“Clutch,” he requested as he shifted for Tony, and something about that was out of control sexy.

“You smell good,” Tony babbled, unable to help himself. “Is that coconut?”

Bucky laughed, and now it would just have to be Tony’s mission to get him to do it again. It was a good laugh.

“You are peculiar, Tony,” Bucky announced, sliding out of the way as Tony retook the wheel. “Every instinct I have screams at me to slit your throat and be done with you.”

Which, oh yeah, he definitely needed to do some soul searching, because sentences involving throat slitting should not result in tight trousers. He’d like to think that if Bucky had been serious about hurting him, it would have been less arousing.

“And yet, I think I will keep you instead.”

“Keep me, huh,” Tony said in a rush, downshifting and pulling out of the flow of traffic. “I like the sound of that.” He held up the phone. “Chuck this when we get close enough to something.”

Bucky lowered his window, and tossed the phone, managing to make it into a trashcan almost half a block away, not bothering to wait for the car to slow down. Tony was understandably impressed.

“Good aim.”

“I’m even better with guns,” he said, grinning wolfishly.

“Me, I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Tony countered. “So, what’s in D.C.? Girlfriend?” Bucky snorted, and Tony struggled not to whoop victoriously. “Boyfriend?”

“Childhood friend,” he answered, unzipping his jacket, and pulling out what looked to be a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

“Huh. You trust this friend?”

Bucky smiled, and this time it was soft, affectionate. “Steve is like my brother. We would die for each other,” he said, and Tony wasn’t about to argue with him. “I trust him more than I trust myself.”

“So, trustworthy. Check. Um. I have a friend. One I trust. She, ah, kinda was expecting me to show up for a meeting this morning. I’m just going to call her and let her know I won’t be in.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed again. “Speaker phone,” he instructed, adjusting his grip on the gun.

Tony nodded, turned off the police band and routed his call through the car. Pepper answered on the second ring.

“Where are you?”

“Pepper!”

“Tony, it sounds like you’re in the car,” Pepper said, not giving him a chance to sweet talk. “Are you parking, or…”

“Change of plans, Pep. Something came up, had to seize the day.”

There was some clicking and banging that Tony knew was her taking him off of speaker phone and grabbing the receiver. She liked to squeeze it when angry at him.

“What does  _that_  mean?” she hissed.

Tony licked his lips, and tried not to laugh over Bucky’s expression. He was staring at the speakers like Pepper might find a way to come through them.

“Sometimes life happens, Pepper, and you have to roll with it.”

“No. Tony,  _no_. I know that voice. Who is she?”

Tony managed to make a convincingly offended sound. “Pepper Potts, I’ll have you know…”

She kept right on going, though. “Okay, so who is  _he_ , Tony, and can’t he wait until  _after_ the Board meeting?”

“This is fate, Potts, and one does not ignore fate in favor of monthly meetings. I’ll be back in town in a few days at the latest. We can do the Board thing then.”

“A few days,” she shouted. “Tony Stark, I will quit unless you tell me what’s going on!”

Tony wondered what was wrong with his wiring that he was more scared of Pepper following through on her threat than he was of the guy pointing a gun at him.

“Miss Potts?”

Tony’s eyes widened, his grip on the steering wheel reaching the white knuckled level. Bucky the carjacker was speaking to Pepper. His Pepper!

“Yes?” Pepper sounded halfway between pleasant and homicidal.

“I must apologize—this is all my fault. When I accepted Tony’s offer of help, I didn’t realize it would cause so much trouble.”

“Hey,” Tony interrupted, not sure what exactly he was worried about.

“My mother passed away,” Bucky said, and Tony almost hit the brakes. It sounded so convincing! Just the right combination of choked up, and holding it all in because of being brave. “And when I ran into Tony today, after all this time…” He cleared his throat.

Tony couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Fate, Pepper! I couldn’t let him take her ashes to D.C. alone.”

Bucky’s face tensed over the mention of D.C. but he relaxed a bit when Pepper sighed a long suffering sigh.

“Tony, if I find out you went to Vegas, or, or Venice again, I will be out of here so fast your head will spin.”

“You won’t, Potts, I promise. I’m doing a favor for a friend. That’s the truth.”

Pepper sighed again. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said, and Tony allowed himself to squirm with guilt. He really did hate to lie to Pepper, which is why he normally tried to do it by using the truth.

“Thank you,” Bucky answered.

“Call me later,” Pepper instructed. “You can at least weigh in on the latest report from R&D for me.”

“Absolutely. Sorry, Pepper. You are my sunshine.”

“Shut up,” she suggested sweetly before disconnecting the call.

Bucky shrugged himself out of his jacket, tucking the gun back into his holster, and Tony only swerved the car a little bit.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, reaching out and touching his passenger’s arm. “Is that a  _metal_ prosthetic?”

He half expected Bucky to shrug off the touch, but he just snorted, and fished out a pack of cigarettes. “May I?”

“Yeah, just roll down the window,” Tony answered absently. He was alternating between glancing at the road and ogling the prosthetic. “Who made this? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“The people I worked for,” Bucky answered, his face strained as he took a pull from his cigarette, “they have many friends.”

Tony had the feeling there was a lot more to the story. Bucky’s jaw was twitching, nostrils flared. He was desperate to know more, but he could tell he wouldn’t get anywhere if he prodded.

“You said worked, as in past tense.”

Bucky exhaled a cloud of smoke, eyes narrowed. “You ask a lot of questions for a hostage.”

Tony smiled. He’d been holding onto Bucky’s arm this entire time, but now he let his fingers slide off of the cool metal, and (literally) shifted gears.

“Can’t help it. Always been like this. I used to drive kidnappers crazy when I was younger.”

Bucky opened his mouth, then shook his head, and continued smoking. “This is turning into an interesting day, Tony.”

Tony grinned and hit the gas. “Let’s get you to D.C., Bucky.”

And if, along the way, he learned everything humanly possible about Bucky and his amazing arm, and his more amazing eyes, and they fell madly in love, then that would be pretty great, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I really need writing to be my full time job, because I want to turn this into 100K worth of _Bourne Identity_ -esque fun times.
> 
> Also, let me take a moment to say **thank you** to every last one of you that takes the time to read these, kudo, or leave comments! I'm consistently overwhelmed by how awesome you all are. *hugs*
> 
>  **Update:** OK, I love you all too much to leave you hanging. I'll definitely be returning to this universe. It might not be 100K, but the adventure will continue! Thanks for the overwhelming support, lovely humans!


End file.
